It started out as a routine mammogram that morning, only my second one ever. The first one, a couple years earlier, had gone very well. I was in and out in less than an hour. So today, after five blissful months of marriage, and enjoying a dream job as a greeting card writer, I breezed into the crowded office. After checking in, I settled into a chair — the only one available. I was eager to get the visit over with, and get back to addressing the tasks and scheduled events of my upcoming day.
The waiting room was very quiet, too quiet. Glancing around at my fellow patients, I noticed that they covered the spectrum of age, race, and sophistication. From tattooed arms and legs, to a designer linen dress, to a walker, each woman was unique, an individual. But we all shared one thing in common: We were there, addressing our health, and paying attention to our well-being.
My thoughts turned back to the project that I was currently working on. I was in charge of a collection that would be coming out in the spring geared to the theme of “thinking of you.” Twenty cards, twenty different messages conveying a sense of “caring and concern.” Struggling with this message, I was jotting down some shallow-sounding “Hope you’re feeling better” ideas in my notepad when I heard my name being called. Up I hopped, happy to get the show on the road.
Five hours later, they wheeled me out to the ambulatory patient pick-up area where my husband helped me get in the car. After two biopsies, a slew of x-rays, and a consultation with the lead surgeon, I was holding the appointment card for my upcoming operation. The doctor's words echoed in my mind: “It’s a good thing you came in today, because now you have a chance.”
My mind was in a whirl, my whole world turned upside down and topsy-turvy in the space of just a few hours. I had gone from greeting cards to appointment cards with lightning speed.
There was no telling what the future had in store for me. But one thing was for certain: the images on the screen had uncovered an invisible enemy. And with that revelation, a wellspring of gratitude and faith flooded through me. No matter what, I knew He would guide me and protect me, and help me see my way through the storm.
The danger was real, but the gift of faith was even more real. What joy filled my soul at this insight! That day, through the Holy Spirit, I had seen the invisible, eternal source of “caring and concern”!
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This is part of the series called “The Human Being Fully Alive” found here.
